Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
VIKTORIA
A rtem's gray eyes darkened as he stared at my lips, and for a second, I thought he was going to kiss me. Despite the shower’s freezing temperature, my body heated at the idea of his lips on mine.
What did he taste like? Pure power and dominance, if I were to bet.
Like sin and chocolate and all the depraved things I dared to think about only in the darkest part of the night.
His grip on my hair tightened, sending a shock of hunger racing down my spine to my core. Then he let me go and moved back to the door. "Sober up and get out."
He turned his back on me, and I sat back in the freezing water.
I was sobering up, but it had nothing to do with the shower. If anything, it was the anger and humiliation reddening my cheeks that were getting the job done. An emotional flambé, burning away the effects of the alcohol I’d drunk at the party.
Tears of rejection stung behind my eyes, but I blinked them back.
I refused to cry over a man. Especially this man. Not here, not now, not ever.
It was bad enough that Artem saw me drunk. He wouldn't see my tears.
Dima was the one who taught me to never let the bastards see you weak.
I was going to get up, dry myself off as best as possible, and walk out that door. I’d figure out how to get back to my dorm when I got outside. I was pretty sure this was a new level of the walk of shame, but I would be damned if I'd let anyone, especially him, look down on me, belittle or control me, because I decided to have fun for one night.
It took a little longer than I would have liked, but I got myself together and crawled out of the shower, my body trembling from the cold. I wrapped a towel from a warming rack around myself, right over my dripping clothes.
Thank god for idiots with too much money and their ridiculous luxuries. The soft, heated cotton warmed me enough that my teeth stopped chattering, and my fingers and toes were no longer numb.
As quietly as I could, I closed the bathroom door behind me, not wanting to let Artem know I was out. With any luck, I would be halfway down the block before he knew I was gone. I spared only a moment to look at the suite.
It was beautiful, but cold. The furniture was luxurious but lacked personality, all gleaming black glass and metal with accents of gold. The focus of the room was the massive wall-to-wall windows that looked out over the glittering city below.
It was a breathtaking view, fit for a man in power. The kind of man that ran a city and liked to look over his kingdom. It was perfect for Artem.
I turned my back on the view. It didn't interest me. I was not a master of the universe. I didn't care about watching the peasants on the street. Or controlling the kingdom I claimed.
I cared about leaving. I took one step toward the door.
"Where do you think you are going?" A low growl came from behind me.
I jumped and lost my grip on the towel, which slid to the floor. Artem stood in another doorway that must have led to the bedroom.
He had taken off his suit jacket and was working on unfastening the cuffs of his dress shirt, rolling the sleeves up to just under his elbows, exposing his thick, tattooed forearms.
"Back to my dorm. I'm sober enough to get back safely." I tried not to stare at his large, powerful hands and think about all the things he could do with them.
Had those hands brought people pain? Taken the lives of men? Had they brought pleasure to women?
"I don't think so. You misbehaved, little girl. You will take your punishment." His words sent a dark thrill through me, but I still took another step toward the door.
"I'm sorry I got drunk. I didn't realize how much I actually drank. It won't happen again."
"I know it won't, not after your punishment." He took a long step, getting closer to me. "Are you going to take it like a good girl, or are you going to make it worse for yourself?"
His hands went to his belt, and all sorts of dirty ideas went through my mind. Was he going to force me to my knees, make me suck his cock? Or fuck me into submission?
No one would stop him.
I couldn't even if I wanted to, and I still wasn't sure if I wanted to stop him.
My mind swam with filthy ideas and my core clenched at the images of the things he could make me do. I must have been drunker than I thought.
I shouldn't have wanted any of those things. He was practically a stranger. I didn't want him, but my body betrayed me.
Heat flooded my core and my knees weakened as he gave me another look while unbuckling the belt.
He pulled the leather strap free. My heart raced and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end at the hushed swoosh .
Still, I took another step back, and he took another one forward.
I expected him to drop the belt on the floor or maybe drape it over the chair.
Instead, he folded it in half and slapped the leather against his palm. The sharp crack echoed through the quiet room, reverberating in my chest like a second heartbeat.
"Well, Viktoria? Are you going to be a good girl and take your punishment, or?—"
I didn't listen to the rest of that sentence.
I turned and ran to the door, just getting my hands on the brass knob when Artem's hand wrapped around my neck, his fingers gripping under my jaw.
His other arm wrapped across my torso as he pulled me into his body. His chest a wall of solid muscle against my back.
"I'm going to tell you a secret, pet," he whispered into my ear as he dragged me away from the door. "I was hoping you were going to make this a little more interesting."
"Get off of me," I shouted, squirming and prying at his arms in a futile struggle against his grip.
His fingers tightened around my throat as he pulled me into the bedroom. The pressure wasn't enough to cut off my air, just enough to remind me who was in control.
The shock was enough to shake the rest of the haze from my mind as I tried to fight him off.
He wasn't letting go.
"Take off your skirt," he growled, his breath hot against my ear.
"No," I begged. "Please, I promise I will be good."
"Then be good and take off your skirt. You will only make it worse by fighting."
"I'll scream," I warned.
"Do it. No one can hear you."
I had no idea if he was bluffing or not, but I believed him. The way he said it—absolute, final—left no room for doubt.
My traitorous body melted at his words, and I reached for the tiny hidden side zipper on the skirt. My fingers were damp, and my hands were trembling as I tried to grip it.
Artem let out a low growl of annoyance and grabbed the waist of my skirt, ripping the cheap faux leather from my body.
That was when I realized this wasn't just about discipline.
This was about control and power.
He had it, and I didn't.
He was going to punish me because he could, and he wanted me to know there was nothing I could do about it.
He was right, but I'd be damned if I was going to give him that satisfaction.
Fucking me was one thing, but trying to break me was something entirely different.
I held my chin high and clenched my lips together as I stood in a luxury hotel room in nothing but a transparent white shirt and a pair of thigh-high boots, my hair dripping freezing water on the thick dark carpet, and stared him down.
Artem was the sexiest, most powerful man I had ever met, even though he could break me. Or maybe because of it.
I told myself it didn't matter. He was wrong. I wouldn't break, not for him, not for anyone.
The way he looked at me, I knew he recognized the challenge in my eyes, and the cocky son of a bitch curled a corner of his mouth in a self-satisfied smile that made my stomach flip.
He met my challenge head-on. Grabbing me by the hair, he tangled his fist in the wet locks and pulled me over to a low bench at the foot of the bed. Then he dragged me over his lap, my head down and my ass in the air.
I fought him until he laid the belt on the bench in front of my face and held my head in place. The belt was close enough I could smell the rich leather and the spicy cologne he wore.
"Tell me why you are being punished," he said, his free hand running over the panty line on my ass cheek.
"Because you are a sick son of a bitch." My ill-advised taunt would have been more convincing if my hands weren't shaking.
He grabbed the back of my panties, scrunching the fabric in his hand and pulling up, forcing the material between my ass cheeks.
"Don't you dare," I said with more courage and defiance than I felt.
"Since you asked so nicely," he taunted before ripping my panties from my body and tossing the soaking wet, ruined cotton on top of the ruined skirt. His hand went back to my ass, petting me. His warm hand soothed my chilled skin, but I still knew what was coming, and it terrified me.
"Are you going to scream for me, little girl?" His voice was low and thick, pure honey laced with poison.
"Never."
"We'll see about that." He pulled my hair, lifting my head so I could watch him pick up the leather which he then dragged over my skin.
I held my breath, not daring to let it out. It was so quiet I could hear the water dripping from my hair onto the plush carpet.
Then that leather whooshed through the air and an instant later landed, the agony of it slapping across my thighs.
Tears threatened yet again. I clenched my jaw, refusing to make a sound. I was still so cold from the shower I wasn't sure if that muted the sting or worsened the resulting burn.
"Count for me, little girl."
"Fuck you," I gritted out.
"I was planning on only giving you ten lashes. But if I lose count, I'll have to start over. We could be here all night." The bastard was enjoying this too fucking much.
"One." I kept my voice steady, angry.
The belt swung through the air again, this time leaving a matching stripe of fire across my body the other way.
"Two."
Around four, I couldn't hold back the tears anymore.
After six, I couldn't hold back my screams, so I pressed my mouth to the outside of his thigh to muffle them. The only way that this could have been more humiliating was if someone broke in here and saw this.
Or if his fingers were to part my folds and he learned how incredibly turned on I was.
After eight, the last of the chill left my body, replaced by heat that radiated from my core to every nerve ending.
After the final strike, I moved to get off of him, but he held me in place. He slipped his fingers between my cheeks, down to my core, and found out exactly how much I was affected by his heavy-handed control.
Fuck.
"What are you doing?" I demanded, not having the strength to fight him.
"You took your punishment like a good girl, so I'm going to reward you." His fingers slipped even further down, searching for my clit.
I wanted to pull away, but my thighs parted for him and my hips arched up.
"You look so fucking perfect like this," he purred. "My marks on your creamy skin, your pussy glistening with need and so fucking hot. The only thing that would make this better would be if I were to slide my cock into this hot little ass."
"No," I said, yanking my head up as he pressed his thumb to my asshole.
No one had ever touched me there, and from the feel of his cock pressing into my stomach, I couldn't imagine even the possibility.
He was big, far too big for that.
"Let's get this straight right now, little girl. You're mine."
He punctuated his words by sliding two fingers into my pussy. "I'm allowing you to go to school and get your degree. But you're still mine. If I want to take this tight little pussy, or fuck this perfect ass after I punish you, then that is what I'm going to do."
My pussy clenched around his fingers.
I couldn't stop it. The way he took control was just so damn sexy.
He let out a low chuckle, and my cheeks burned.
"Do you want your reward, or do you want to be punished for being a brat?" he asked, curling his fingers and pressing into my G-spot.
"I'll be good," I said, holding back a shudder of pleasure.
He let go of my hair and slid his fingers from my body.
Immediately, I missed them both.
He pulled me up to my feet and without even thinking about it, I made a break for the door.
I was four feet from freedom before he was on me.
He grabbed my wrist and pulled me into his body, gripping the back of my neck.
His lips slammed onto mine in the most intense kiss of my life.
The world around me spun as he demanded my submission, and I gave it to him, opening my lips to his, letting him claim my mouth.
I was right. He tasted like raw power and dark chocolate.
I wanted more, but all too soon, he broke the kiss.
"I was going to let you come with my fingers deep inside you, maybe even lick that pretty little pussy until you screamed my name. But now..." He clicked his tongue as he walked us back to the bench and took a seat. "Now you only get what I give you."
Artem pulled me down to his lap, forcing me to straddle one of his thighs as he ripped open my shirt. The buttons scattered across the floor.
His hot mouth was on my breast in a second, and a shiver of need ran through me, a gasp escaping at the contrast of his warm lips against my cold skin.
His hands moved to my hips, his fingertips digging into the fresh welts and bruises, giving an edge of pain to the pleasure that ramped it up to something sweeter.
He sucked my nipples, laving each with his tongue, driving me crazy. I needed more.
He wouldn't give me more. This was another punishment.
I rocked on his thigh, and the most delicious pleasure rolled through me.
Artem let out a low purr, and I took that as permission.
Humiliation heated my cheeks but need burned through my veins as I ground my pussy on the soft wool of his suit. Rocking forward each time to give my clit the friction it needed.
It wasn't enough. I needed more.
"Artem," I begged. "Please, I'll be good, but I need—I need…" Pressure built in my core, but it still wasn't enough. God, I should have hated this man, but instead, I was riding his thigh, begging for his cock. How did he do this to me? I didn't understand.
His hand slipped between us, and two fingers went inside my aching pussy, stretching me, filling me in the most delicious way possible. His thumb pressed on my clit as his mouth assaulted my breasts.
In seconds, I was crying his name as I came apart on his fingers, my body convulsing in waves of pleasure so intense they bordered on pain.
The second I came down from the incredible high, I climbed off him, shame burning through me.
He had made me ride his thigh—no, that wasn't true.
I had done that on my own. I knew it, and from the look on his face, his eyes twinkling with amusement, he knew it too.
He had spanked me, humiliated me, and how did I respond? I rode his thigh like my life depended on it while begging him to fuck me.
My hand flew through the air, ready to slap the smug smile from him.
Artem caught my wrist and used it to pull me into his body.
He lifted his fingers, dripping with my juices, to my mouth and ran them over my lips, painting me with my own come.
I should have been livid, but I couldn't even breathe as I watched him.
Then he kissed me again.
This time, he tasted like power, dominance, and the sweet, tart taste of my submission.
He swept me off my feet and carried me around to the side of the bed, laying me on it gently.
The rigid outline of his hard cock strained against his pants. He needed relief, and I was ready to provide it.
"One day, you'll thank me for keeping you alive," he said before he turned his back on me and left, slamming the bedroom door behind him.
Leaving me shivering, humiliated again, and absolutely furious in the dimly lit room.
Then I heard the click of the lock...